


Beat

by fanforfanatic



Series: Destiel Drabbles [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (Not), Angel Wings, Dean has a Fear of Flying, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Flying, M/M, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 12:55:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11532663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanforfanatic/pseuds/fanforfanatic
Summary: Cas goes away again, but he takes Dean with him.





	Beat

**Author's Note:**

> Written with the word prompt "Beat", courtesy of some dcbb pals.

Cas looks like ghosts do, the way they flicker in and out of presence. When Dean sees it the first time, they’re sitting in the library, Dean reading, Cas appearing to count the grooves in the high ceiling. He rationalises it, naturally, as humans do. He figures he’s been staring at printed words too long, it’s messing with his sight even though the letters on the page are as sharp as ever.

It happens again. Cas is there, settled comfortably in the wooden chair, leaning back with his socked feet propped on the table’s edge, eyes fixed on something above him, an easy remnant of a smile on his lips. And then he’s not and then he is and then he’s  _ not _ and then he is. It’s undeniable this time and the air in Dean’s lungs vanishes with Cas when he does. 

Dean doesn’t speak; hopes to hold out as long as possible before whatever the fuck is happening crashes this calm… this calm  _ domesticity _ they have going on. That they’ve allowed themselves. But they never get to keep nice things, do they?

“Cas?” Dean ventures, voice unsteady, because he can’t not. He can’t live in denial long, not the way he’s built.

Cas lifts his head. His smile turns into a dopey grin and his eyes look dazed but only for a moment before they focus on Dean’s. “Yes?”

“Cas, man, I don’t want you freaking out but something’s happening to you.”

“Dean, you sound concerned.”

“You keep coming and going!”

“I’m only soarin— I’m zapping. That’s what you’ve dubbed it,” Cas says, fondly.

Dean relaxes minutely, says, “To where?”

“Back here.” A pause. “I can show you.”

“Oh no, I’ve been on that joy ride before. If you’re okay, then it’s okay.”

Cas shakes his head. “You’ve never seen it, Dean.”

-

“So you’re gonna fuck with my brain first?”

“It’s safe.”

“No, I know. You’d never— Yeah, okay, Cas. Do it.”

Cas smiles—he does that so often now—and Dean knows he doesn’t have a thing to worry about. A strange silence settles over Dean after Cas lays a hand on his shoulder, splaying his fingers so the tip of one touches Dean’s bare skin under the neckline of his t-shirt. (It’s black and simple, one of those packs of five you can pick up for a few dollars, and identical to the one Cas is wearing.)

The quiet comes paired with deceleration. When Cas blinks, lids gliding languidly, he looks like an unfortunate still frame from a movie, like a photo taken at just the wrong time, and Dean laughs. But even that is slowed. Dean feels it spark somewhere inside him, a place he can’t name, and rumble up his chest gradually like a physical thing, like a wave crashing along his inner walls as it moves up. When it finally bursts out of him, the sound is muted, distant.

Cas goes away again, but he takes Dean with him.

Time returns to normal and Dean is flooded with sensations, the most prominent one being a feeling of weightlessness. He’s not so much flying as he is suspended in air, pinned to a wall of gas and Cas’ hand is the thumb tack. 

Far below him, in this space that’s vaster than his mind could conjure on its own, there are swirls of light, bright and in every colour. More than that. There are colours Dean has never seen, shades he couldn’t describe if his life depended on it. If Cas’ did, or  _ Sam’s _ .

“Is that Earth?” he sort of asks. He doesn’t feel the words, doesn’t form them with his tongue, but he must have said them because Cas answers.

“It’s all the worlds.”

Dean doesn’t hear that with his ears, realises he isn’t seeing with his eyes either. He strains to feel alarmed, as though the emotion doesn’t belong here, and he turns to locate Cas, to reassure himself, but there is no turning. No body to turn. The alarm doesn’t flare, it ebbs away instead, because he knows Cas is there. He thinks Cas might have just reminded him of the fact… somehow.

Dean is also there. Just  _ being _ . He doesn’t know how long they stay, existing, watching the colours, feeling light; whatever Dean is used to carrying on his shoulders isn’t here with them. 

Eventually Cas lets Dean know that they’re landing and Dean feels pieces of himself, scattered molecules, gather in arms he calls home. It’s Cas who’s doing it, Dean knows that rationally, but Dean also just  _ knows _ it. He senses the way Cas collects every last part of him, like Cas knows every last part of him.

Before they descend—there is nowhere up from here, Dean is sure—back to the bunker, he swears he hears, really hears, in the traditional sense, wings beat. 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](https://fanforfanatic.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
